


Because I Trust You

by thericketandoo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beverly Katz is better than you, Brotp, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thericketandoo/pseuds/thericketandoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will Graham was looking for someone. Beverly Katz had left the crime scene, covered head to toe in blood, and he had not seen her since.</i>
</p><p>Sort of a continuation of "Payback", written prior to watching episode 1x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Trust You

**Author's Note:**

> You should probably read my other fic "Payback" before reading this, but I suppose it's not necessary. This is definitely a Will/Bev friendSHIP thing. Just as a warning.
> 
> Oh, and I wasn't sure if this was graphic violence or triggering, so please tell me if I'm wrong.

Will Graham was looking for someone. Beverly Katz had left the crime scene, covered head to toe in blood, and he had not seen her since.

It hadn't been anything to get worked up about, the scene itself. A man, approximately 45-50 years old, was found dead in the back room of a bakery. The only reason the FBI was there was because of the bakery's possible ties to organized crime, and the death was presumed to be a hit. What it actually turned out to be was a set-up, meant for the purpose of humiliating someone, most likely the owner of the bakery. 

Fortunately for the owner, but unfortunately for Bev, he hadn't even entered the room once he found the body on the floor, covered in baking flour. Somehow, none of the responding officers had tripped the killer's booby trap, but when Bev bent down to examine a possible footprint on the floor smeared under the industrial-sized mixer, two gallons of blood, presumably human, poured down on her from above.

Bev had said absolutely nothing. She just stood up, slowly, and walked out. If there was evidence on the floor, on the walls, it was all destroyed. Zeller followed Bev out, as did Price, but not before making a quip that Will couldn't acknowledge. Will was staring vacantly at the spot where Bev had been crouching down just moments ago, feet apparently glued in their spot on the floor as blood curved its way around his shoes.

It took Jack Crawford shouting Will's name a three times for him to acknowledge. He turned to Jack, almost pleading, and murmured, "I can't," as he brushed past Jack, leaving the bakery for his car.

Evidently, Will had stood there, catatonic, for nearly an hour because Bev was long gone when he walked through the parking lot. If he hadn't been on a mission, he'd probably have found himself driving to Dr. Lecter's instead of on his way back to Quantico, but as it was he needed to find Bev.

He found her in a locker room, near one of the training facilities. Will was worried about her, but didn't know if he was empathizing _with_ her or projecting his fears _on_ her, but he had to find out. He stood in the doorway, waiting to see if she noticed. When she didn't, he cleared his throat.

Her hair was damp. Actually, it was dripping, and Will noticed as she turned to see him standing in his usual awkward stance, arms hanging at his sides with nowhere to go, and feet shoulder-width apart. She was wearing clean clothes now, which Will convinced himself he was thankful for because it meant she was well enough to dress herself. Really though, it came down to him not wanting to see her, especially her, like she was at the crime scene again.

"Hey," Bev smiled, "Sorry I just left. Thank God for safety glasses, right? Unfortunately, the bra I was wearing is ruined. Do you have any idea how much good bras cost?"

Will fidgeted with his glasses on his face. "No, I can't say that I do," He paused, removed his glasses, "Are you okay?"

She laughed, making a point to look directly at him, "Yes, I'm okay. It's just blood. I went to the hospital. None of it got in my eyes or mouth. I think I'll be fine." Bev's expression became serious, "Are you okay?"

"Me?" Will chuckled uncomfortably, "Why would you ask that? I mean, I wasn't the one who had a bucket of blood dropped on me a la Carrie."

In an attempt to appear more casual, he wandered in and leaned on a bank of lockers, crossing his arms across his chest. In reality, his mind was still playing the moment the bucket turned onto Bev over and over, skipping like a needle on a scratched record.

"Because I know you," Bev narrowed her eyes, turned away and moved to her open locker across from him.

Something on the bench next to Bev began to vibrate. Bev's phone was ringing. He glanced casually at the screen when it lit up, read "Call from Freddie Lounds", and immediately realized he had made a mistake. Bev turned around in just enough time to see Will's eyes flick away from her phone. She grabbed it off the bench, silenced it, and set it back face down. Three seconds later, her phone went off again.

"She really wants to get ahold of you," Will was unable to hide the venom in his tone, "Maybe you should answer it."

Bev silenced her phone again, glaring at Will. For once, it actually didn't matter to him that Bev might be upset with him. Normally, she might be one of the only people he at least tried not to bother. He might have done so, but only unintentionally. Now, he was going through all the scenarios in his mind for why Freddie Lounds, of all people, would be trying to contact Bev.

The phone went off again. Bev snatched it off the bench and answered, turning her back to Will again, "What!? I'm fine. I'm _fine_. No, I… how the hell do you know anyways? Wait, don't answer that… Just… I'm busy. I'll call you later, maybe. I'm fine. Stop. Bye."

He waited as she finished the phone call, his concern turning into confusion.

"You know when you said that if something was up with you, I wouldn't know, but if I asked you about it, you'd tell me?" Will looked down at his shoes. He could see the dried blood on their edges.  

"Not now, Will," Bev's warning was clear, but Will chose to ignore her.

"Why would Freddie Lounds be calling you?" For a split second, he allowed himself to look Bev directly in the eyes. He felt more betrayed than he should have, he thought, and was obviously upset.

"It's not important," she shook her head slightly. 

"What?!" Will's jaw clenched, "This is _the_ Freddie Lounds, right? Of TattleCrime.com? The one who said I was 'insane'? The same woman who constantly hinders FBI investigations? How could that not be important?"

The way Bev adjusted her posture, moving her hands from her hips, and crossing her arms, was enough to confirm Will's accusations. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead anxiously.

"This isn't anyone's business but my own, but... I'll be honest with you because I trust you. I know I can trust you." She leaned forward, forcing Will to meet her eyes. He nodded in agreement.

Bev took a beat. "Freddie and I have an arrangement." 

"With… _her_?" He wasn't sure what made him more angry, Bev with a journalist who makes her living off screwing with the FBI, or that this journalist was Freddie Lounds, the woman who repeatedly made it clear that she hates Will, as much as he hates her.

"Not dating or anything romantic, just sex."

"Just... sex?" 

"Yup," Bev raised her eyebrows, daring Will to protest further.

Bev's expression made him ball his hands into fists at his side. He considered giving up, but he couldn't. "You could fired for this, or worse," his concern was genuine.

"I won't," She spoke with certainty. Will couldn't argue with Bev, so he nodded with acceptance. "When was the last time you had really fantastic sex?" 

Will could have choked. _Did she just?_ He took a deep breath. A thousand different responses came to his mind, but Will couldn't force himself to say any of them. He exhaled and squinted at Bev, "Freddie Lounds?"

She shrugged.

He raised his eyebrows, "For someone who isn't dating you, she seemed fairly concerned about your well-being."

"She might just be confused, or maybe she really is satan," she gave Will an 'I-know-what-you-were-thinking' glance, "And she only wants to get the scoop on today's incident straight from the victims mouth."

Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her 'Satan' reference, and relaxed his shoulders, "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Will. This conversation never happened."

A smile twitched it's way at the corners of his mouth, "What conversation?"

Bev shut her locker, picked up her phone and shoved it in her pocket. "You know, I appreciate your concern, but you probably shouldn't hang out in the women's locker room."

 


End file.
